Donna knew that look
on Harvey’s face, just like she knew all of his expressions. It
was his, ‘covet thy neighbor’s wife,’ look which
meant that whatever he turned that gaze on inevitably ended up being
his. Whether it was a person or a thing, Harvey Spector always got
what he wanted. Normally, it didn’t bother her when Harvey got
creative about making something, or someone, his; she’d even
helped in the past just for the amusement factor. This particular
time though, Donna had the strongest urge to warn Mike to run for the
hills, preferably hills on another continent.

Mike grinned dopily
at her on the way out of Harvey’s office, giving her a little
wave as he headed back towards the associates’ bullpen. She'd
heard the praise that Harvey had heaped on the kid and knew it had
gone right through Mike. As soon as he was gone, Donna hopped to her
feet and strode into Harvey’s office.

Harvey frowned when
he caught sight of her face. “What?”

Donna pointed a
finger at him and said, “Don’t even think about it.”

He immediately
assumed an innocent expression. “Think about what?”

Hands on her hips,
Donna warned, “Whatever you’re thinking about doing to
Mike, don’t. He’s a good kid, Harvey. Leave him alone.”

Harvey shrugged a
little and said, “He is a good kid. He’s also a disaster
waiting to happen.”

“What, because
of the pot thing?”

“Not just, no.
You call him a puppy, right?”

“We all do.”

“Exactly.”

Donna frowned at the
simple declaration and began to get an inkling of where Harvey was
going with the thought. “Wait, are you telling me you’re
going to take him to protect him from the sharks in the world?”

Harvey shrugged
again.

Donna sighed and
said, “It’s called growing up, Harvey. We all have to do
it. He’ll toughen up eventually.”

But Harvey shook his
head and told her, “It’s not that. He’s just so…
submissive. Come on, Donna, you can’t tell me you don’t
notice.”

She had, but he
hadn’t seemed so much more than other people. Most people were
submissive when dealing with her and Harvey. In an occupation full of
sharks, they were the Great Whites.

“If I don’t
take him, someone else will and they won’t have his best
interests at heart.”

“Like Rachel?”

“I was
thinking more like Jessica.”

Donna paused, lips
pursed as she thought that over. Jessica did like to be surrounded by
pretty, submissive slaves and it wouldn’t be beyond her to
manufacture circumstances to her satisfaction. Harvey had learned
from the best, after all. And while Jessica hadn’t seemed
to notice Mike much, she had mentioned the kid a time or two,
something that Donna knew the other woman hadn’t done with any
of the other associates.

Harvey nodded at her
grimace and repeated, “Exactly.”

“So, you think
being yours will protect him.”

“It will.”

“Except he’s
a free citizen and I can’t see him just up and agreeing to be a
voluntary slave. He’s pretty independent,” Donna pointed
out.

Harvey smirked a
little. “He’s a gutsy little shit, I will give you that.”

Donna rolled her
eyes at him. “One who enjoys his freedom.”

Harvey’s smirk
shifted into a shark’s grin. “Then he shouldn’t be
involved with drugs.”

“Harvey.”

“Yes, Donna?”

The innocent look
was back again and she sighed. “He’s not holding anymore
and he’ll hate you if he finds out you set him up.”

“Only until I
convince him that it’s for his own good.”

“And you being
a possessive bastard with control issues has nothing to do with
making him your slave for life,” Donna said dryly.

Harvey stood up and
walked over to her. Gripping her shoulders, he said, “Can I
count on you with this?”

Donna thought for a
few minutes and he let her.

On the one hand,
Harvey was right; someone would make a play for Mike one day and if
it turned out to be someone like Louis, Gods forbid, or even worse,
Cameron Dennis, then Mike would have nothing to look forward to but a
life of abject servitude, pain, and misery. If Mike was Harvey’s,
then she knew the puppy would be well cared for, even loved once
Harvey could admit the feeling to himself.

On the other hand,
this could backfire horribly. If Mike got arrested for drugs and made
into a convict-slave and never forgave Harvey, they would both be
miserable for the rest of their lives.

Then there was the
whole, ‘didn’t even make it through college, let alone
Harvard,’ issue. If Mike belonged to Harvey, that went away.
Harvey was perfectly within his rights to use his slave at work
however he saw fit. It was a further layer of insulation and
protection for Mike. For all of them, really, but especially for Mike
since he’d be the one perceived to have perpetrated the fraud
in the first place.

And yet, if Mike
didn’t forgive Harvey…

Donna met Harvey’s
gaze and said, “I’ve got a better idea on how to go about
this.”

Harvey’s
eyebrows lifted, signaling his interest.

It was Donna’s
turn to smirk and she said, “Wait and see; the Great and
Powerful Donna will take care of everything.”

Harvey snorted, but
walked back to his desk.

Donna grinned to
herself and headed back to hers. There was a lot to plan.

* * * *

Mike had been
working for a solid forty-eight hours on a sudden and impossible
deadline for a multi-billion dollar company fending off a hostile
takeover. Harvey had been aggravating, irritating, sharp with
complaints and criticisms, and riding him nonstop… about his
work, unfortunately. It hadn’t been until the very end that
he’d gotten a compliment from him. He’d been practically
high walking by Donna that afternoon, giving her a stupid wave on his
way out of Harvey's office.

When Mike stumbled
into his apartment at around midnight three days after the last time
he’d been there, he had just enough energy to collapse facedown
on the bed. He fell asleep almost instantly, hand still gripping his
messenger bag which had dropped down beside him.

Shouting and
crashing noises woke him from a sound sleep, adrenaline flooding his
body to jumpstart his heart against his ribcage.

“On the
ground! On the ground!”

Mike rolled off his
bed onto the floor and didn’t resist in the slightest when
rough hands grabbed his arms and yanked them behind his back. His
wrists were zip-tied together and then those same hands hauled him to
his feet, throwing him on the bed. The apartment lights were on now
and he saw about fifteen cops in full riot gear tearing his place
apart.

The cop right in
front of him was dressed normally, probably a detective, and leaned
aggressively forward. “Save yourself some time and pain and
tell us where the drugs are.”

Mike’s jaw
dropped. “Drugs? I don’t have any drugs.”

The detective
backhanded him hard enough that his head rocked with it and his lower
lip split. “We’ve got your delivery boy and he’s
spilled everything. Tell us where they are and I’ll see what I
can do for you.”

“Delivery boy?
I don’t have any delivery boy! I don’t have any drugs! I
don’t do that!” Mike exclaimed, fear chasing through him.

Another backhand and
this time, blood dripped freely from his lip instead of just
dribbling, well and truly cut open. The whole right side of his face
hurt.

“We’ll
just wait and see then, won’t we?”

Mike sat on his bed,
stunned and shivering with fear, watching the cops literally pull his
life apart. They ripped open his sofa cushions, knocked books off the
shelves, and pulled up floorboards.

“Sir! We’ve
found it!”

Mike’s head
snapped over towards the shout and he watched the detective stride to
the kitchen area. One of them had pulled the stove forward and
crawled in behind it and was pulling out bag after bag of white
powder. Nausea twisted his stomach with shock and horror. Coke.
Someone had planted at least twenty pounds of cocaine in his
apartment and there was only one person he could think of that would
do that: Trevor.

The detective walked
back to Mike and said, “No drugs, huh? Take him in.”

The disgust in the
man’s voice couldn’t compete with the betrayal that
coursed through Mike. He barely noticed when two cops dragged him out
of the apartment and down the stairs, throwing him carelessly into
the back of a patrol car. He was going to be sent to hard labor with
that much drugs found. He was going to die. Everything he’d
fought for, everything he’d tried to build, was gone, thrown
away by Trevor’s betrayal.

Mike went through
the motions of getting booked into the system, his perfect memory
filing everything away for later. Mike had been stripped and put
through a chemical wash in the coldest and shortest shower of his
life. His hair had been shaved off entirely. He’d had a painful
cavity search. Photos had been taken to document his state of health.

By the time he sat
alone in a tiny cell, exhaustion born of three days of little sleep
and emotional turmoil had him almost passed out on the hard cement
floor from the continued shock. There was nothing to sit or lie down
on, no sign of comfort to be found. The only thing in the cell aside
from Mike was a toilet; there wasn’t even a sink. This, Mike
realized, was the end of the line. Probably the only reason there was
a toilet was so no one had to clean up after the prisoners.

The cold of the
floor seeped into him, mingling with the trauma of everything he’d
lost. He felt… hollow. Nothing seemed real.

A guard came and
dragged him out of the cell, being sure to push him face-first into
the metal bars with a cruel grin. He was brought to a small room and
shoved into a chair, ordered to stay, like he was a dog.

I’m less
than a dog now, Mike thought, his brain slowly coming out of its
fog. I’m a convict slave, even if I haven’t gone
through a trial yet. The trial will be a joke. No one’s going
to represent me. Even if they do, there’s no way I’ll get
out of this, not with all those fucking drugs they found.

The door opened a
few minutes later and in walked Harvey, who stopped short at the
sight of him. Mike was having the same kind of reaction since he'd
never seen Harvey dressed so casually in jeans and a cotton
button-down shirt, both of which clung in all the right places. His
hair was without its usual gelled perfection, looking soft and
touchable. Rage filled his dark eyes as they swept over Mike and took
in his battered face and shaved head. “I’m going to kill
someone for this.”

A short, sharp laugh
escaped Mike and he said, “Jesus, Harvey, don’t do that.
No good both of us being sent to hard labor. Wait, how did you even
know to come?”

Harvey waved off the
question. “I have friends here. Got a call. Tell me what
happened.”

“I don’t
even know what happened!” Mike exclaimed, stomach twisted still
in knots. “It’s got to be Trevor, though, because they
burst into my apartment and found so much coke, Harvey. So fucking
much that there’s no hope. I’m going to hard labor and
I’m going to die there.”

Harvey shook his
head and said, “Not happening.”

“Not even you
can get me out of this one, Harvey,” Mike said, dropping his
eyes.

Harvey closed the
distance between them, then, and gripped Mike’s chin, forcing
his face up. “You listen to me, rookie. I'll fix this. Just
keep your head down and do what the guards say. My friends here will
make sure you’re safe until I get everything settled.”

Mike shook his head.
“No, Harvey, you can’t touch this. You’ll get into
so much trouble! I’m not worth it. Just, look after my
grandmother, will you? Explain to her that, that I'm innocent, I
didn't do this.”

Harvey sat on the
edge of the table and said, “This won’t go to trial
because I’m going to get that little shit to confess to
everything he did. I will fix this, Mike. You just have to
trust me. Can you do that?”

Mike nodded and
wished, briefly and in vain, for the other man to hug him, holding
him and warming him with his protection. Harvey might have seen
something of that in his face, he saw everything after all, because
he gently squeezed the back of Mike’s neck before he left.

The guard came in
and brought him back to the cell, throwing him in so hard that Mike
lost his balance and stumbled against the wall. His head smacked
against it with enough force to hurt, but not enough to incapacitate.

Mike slid down to
the floor and gripped his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms
around his legs and trying not to let despair overcome him.

* * * *

Timing, Harvey
thought on the walk to pay his friend a visit, really is
everything.

It hadn’t even
been a day since his chat with Donna and Harvey knew damn well that
she hadn’t had time to put anything in motion. Not to mention
that anything Donna did would never have put Mike at risk of actual
abuse like he'd suffered tonight. Sometime in the last three days,
Trevor had come back to New York, planted a shit-ton of coke in
Mike’s apartment, gotten caught, and then fingered Mike as the
boss.

Harvey wasn’t
surprised to find Flack at his desk even though it was almost two
a.m.; the man was more of a workaholic than Harvey, and that was
saying something. Flack looked up at his approach and gave a little
grimace, jerking his head at the spare chair next to his desk. Harvey
sat in it and said, “Thanks for the call.”

Flack’s
expression turned thoughtful at Harvey’s flat, unwavering tone.
He leaned back in his chair and asked, “Where’d the drugs
come from?”

Harvey’s fists
clenched and he said, “Mike’s ex-roommate and ex-best
friend, Trevor Harris. He used Mike to hold his pot before they
stopped being friends. Probably thought this would be good revenge
for Mike making something of his life.”

Flack’s
eyebrows went up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear about
the pot and just say that Harris is the guy who fingered Ross.”

“Yeah, I bet,”
Harvey said darkly. “Mike dated Trevor’s ex-girlfriend
for a while, after Trevor ditched town because I bailed him out of a
jam with some serious players and was going to drag Mike down with
him.”

Flack laughed, but
the sound was disbelieving instead of amused. “Christ, Spector,
your boy’s life is like a soap opera.”

Harvey snorted.
“Tell me about it. So. What can we do to make this go away?”

Flack shook his head
and told him, “Nothing. Harvey, there’s too much here to
just sweep away.”

“I’m not
saying that.”

“What are you
saying?”

“I want Trevor
to pay for every single thing he’s done to Mike. A short life
at hard labor sounds perfect to me. If I get him to confess to
setting up Mike, what can you do for Mike?”

Flack thought about
it for a few minutes and then said slowly, “I have friends down
in narco… if you get Harris and the next rung on the ladder,
I’ll get them to give Mike to you. He won’t get out of
being convicted, but no hard labor. Life as slave to a lawyer’s
punishment enough in everyone’s eyes, anyhow.”

Harvey’s lips
quirked into a brief grin. “Thanks.”

Flack winked and
picked up his desk phone. “Yeah, this is Flack. Bring Harris to
interrogation three. Yes, now! Okay.”

Harvey relaxed a
little and thought about how to go about this. He was, technically,
Trevor’s lawyer. He had to get the bastard to both fire him and
confess to him. He walked with Flack to the viewing room and stared
with anger at the clothed, non-shaved man sitting in the
interrogation room; he didn't look in the least roughed up. Not like
Mike had been, not even close. Fury gripped him tight for a few
seconds and he pushed it back, locking it up tight. He couldn’t
be emotional about this.

He glanced over at
Flack. “You going to record this?”

“He hasn’t
asked for a lawyer, so yeah.”

“Technically,
I’m already his lawyer. You can’t record until after he
fires me.”

“Gods damn it,
Specter! Why didn’t you say that before?”

“Just pay
attention and record when you can.”

Flack scowled at
him, but nodded.

Harvey left the room
and walked into the interrogation room.

Trevor’s jaw
dropped a little when he saw Harvey walk in. “What the hell?
How’d you even know I was here?”

Harvey sat on the
chair opposite him, across the rickety wooden table. “I didn’t.
I came because a friend of mine said Mike had been arrested. For
drugs. Twenty-seven kilos, to be precise. Do you know what happens to
people caught with that amount of drugs? Hard labor camp. Abuse.
Gang rape. Death.”

Trevor slunk down in
his chair, guilt flitting across his face. “What do you want me
to do about it?”

Harvey shrugged.
“Nothing. It’s not like you’re going to confess to
setting Mike up or naming your real boss. It’s not like you
ever do the right thing.”

Harvey didn’t
even twitch at the first victory. He merely leaned back in the chair
and said, “Thank you. This is the cleanest I’ve felt in
months, not having to deal with your dishonor anymore.”

Trevor kicked the
table again, harder. “Get out!”

Harvey leaned on the
table and asked, “How does it feel to cause your former best
friend’s death? I mean, he’s not dead yet, but you and I
both know he won’t last long in a camp. Hell, I’ll
probably be arranging for his funeral in about a week, maybe less.”

Trevor’s scowl
deepened, etching into his face in hard lines. “He’s
tougher than he looks.”

Harvey barked out a
short laugh. “Come on, Trevor. We know that’s not true.
He’s the softest, most submissive free man around. That’s
why you picked him. He’s so trusting. He did everything you
asked of him, didn’t he? Before I stepped in, of course. That’s
why you stashed the drugs there. Even if he found them, he’d
never tell on you. He might bitch and whine to and about
you, but he’d never betray you. Too bad the reverse
isn’t the same.”

Trevor didn’t
reply, instead staring at Harvey like he could drill a hole in his
skull.

Harvey shrugged and
said, “No skin off my nose. I mean, it is, because I lose a
great associate, but he’s only been with me half a year. It’s
not like I can’t replace him. Associates are a dime a dozen.
Not like best friends. Someone who was there for you every time you
fucked up. Someone who shared his grandmother with you when your own
parents couldn’t be bothered. Someone who considered you
family. That kind of person’s not so replaceable, are they?”

“I can’t
do anything.” Trevor finally ground out, teeth clenched. “It’s
done. He had the drugs and they arrested him and there’s
nothing I can do.”

Harvey sat back in
the chair again and schooled his features into a thoughtful
expression. “That might not be entirely true.”

“What do you
mean?”

“I mean, I
have friends. I might be able to get Mike a deal of some kind.”

“I’m not
saying the drugs are mine.”

“They are
yours.”

“But if I say
that, they’ll put me in a hard labor camp.”

Harvey frowned to
make it look like he was still thinking things over. He was more than
half-way to his goal. Really, for a drug dealer, Trevor was stupidly
uninformed about criminal proceedings. He should’ve known that
unless a prisoner was talking to their lawyer, nothing was private.
It didn’t matter now that he’d confessed to the drugs
being his; he didn’t have to say it to anyone for it to now be
used against him.

“I could
arrange for a private sale. You’re going to be a slave
regardless; why not control who can buy you? Once your master or
mistress has you, your identity gets wiped anyhow.”

That wasn’t
strictly true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. Slaves had
no last name, but it was still possible to track one down if bribes
or intimidation were involved.

Trevor looked
uncertain. “You can do that?”

“I know a lot
of people,” Harvey evaded. “But I need the name above you
to do anything.”

And that was true.
He just wasn’t going to do anything for Trevor. And if Mike
ever asked, Harvey would lie through his teeth and consider it a just
cause. Trevor needed to pay for all the lives he’d ruined
through drugs and his so-called friendship.

A few long minutes
of silence and then… “Harold McTennor. He’s my
main connection. Works out of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Harvey grinned
fiercely at that, triumph rippling through him.

Trevor’s eyes
widened and he seemed to realize just how fucked he now was. He
lunged across the table at Harvey with a shout of rage, slamming into
Harvey and driving them both to the floor. Harvey let out his own
shout and pummeled Trevor with everything he had, slamming his fists
into him until cops pulled them apart. Panting with adrenaline and
the need to do further damage, Harvey only stayed put because Flack
shoved a hand onto his chest, glared and said, “Don’t
screw things up for your boy now, Spector.”

The other cops
dragged Trevor out of the room kicking and screaming for revenge.

Fists still
clenched, Harvey demanded, “You get what you needed?”

Flack nodded. “And
then some. Already talked to narco and they’re going to put the
paperwork through for you. Meantime, Ross’s gonna stay in iso
to keep him safe until you claim him.”

The words ‘claim
him,’ shot through Harvey like an electric charge and he had to
clamp down on his composure to keep it intact. He nodded sharply and
ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m fine.”

Flack removed his
hand and said, “Okay. Go home and get some rest.”

“But…”

“Nothing’s
gonna happen until mid-morning at the earliest. We’ve got
paperwork to file and the narco captain ain’t even here tonight
to approve everything.”

Fear cut through
Harvey and he said, “You said everything would be fine if I got
you that info.”

“And it will,”
Flack said firmly. “I don’t give my word lightly.”

And I owe you,
echoed unsaid through the room.

Harvey nodded and
sighed, letting himself relax a hair. He couldn’t do anything
about Mike until the deal was settled, as much as he wanted to gather
Mike into his arms until he stopped shaking. “Do me a favor?”

“Another one?”

Harvey huffed out an
amused breath. “Yeah. Mike’s got to be freezing. Can
someone get him some clothes or blankets or something?”

Flack quirked a grin
at him and said, “I would say by the end of this you’d
owe me, but you’ve just given us a major drug player. Get some
sleep, Spector.”

Harvey nodded and
left the room, making plans about how to change his loft into
something comfortable for two people. It wasn’t a change he’d
ever anticipated, but Harvey prided himself on being flexible.

* * * *

Mike stayed awake,
numb, for most of the rest of the very long night. At some point a
guard came in and threw sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a blanket at him
through the bars. He didn’t know why the about-face, but he
wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He pulled on
the too-baggy clothes and wrapped up in the blanket. He slept after
that, the trembling cold retreating just enough for him to manage a
light doze.

He jerked awake at
the clattering of the door opening. A tall man with dark hair and
bright blue eyes looked down at him for a few seconds and then said,
“So you’re the one who finally got to the heartless
Harvey Specter. I wouldn’t have believed it.”

Mike rubbed at his
eyes and then said, “Huh?”

The man snickered
and said, “Get up, Ross. You’re being arraigned.”

Mike climbed slowly
to his feet, sore in body and soul. It looked like Harvey hadn’t
been able to come through after all. Not that he’d expected him
to, there was just too much stacked against him in this situation. He
couldn’t rewrite Empire law single-handedly, after all.

It wasn’t a
long journey to the courthouse and the detective, whoever he was,
didn’t speak to him again. He wasn’t unkind, though,
stopping to grab him a pair of flip flops and not banging him into
any doors or corners. It was weird, being escorted to the courthouse
and through security. He knew most prisoners just got thrown together
at the supposed mercy of the guards. Not that he was complaining. The
longer he went without experiencing the horror of the prison system,
the better.

Arraignment took
place in a crowded courtroom and Mike immediately locked onto Harvey
sitting in the front row. He was dressed impeccably, as always, and
looked perfectly at ease in the noisy atmosphere, as if the despair
and rage couldn’t touch him. That icy exterior Mike had always
admired was front and center.

The bailiff
announced, “Case number 1657490. State of New York and The
Empire against Michael Ross.”

The detective pushed
him lightly to the table where a public defender should have been,
and yet no one waited for him. Mike tried not to feel utterly on his
own; Harvey was just a few feet away, after all.

The judge, an Asian
woman somewhere in her fifties, looked at the prosecutor and said,
“Has an agreement been reached?”

The prosecutor
nodded and said, “Yes, Your Honor.”

Mike blinked in
surprise. “An agreement?”

The judge eyed him
like a bug. “Silence.”

Mike’s jaw
clicked shut.

The prosecutor said,
“Michael Ross is to be convicted into slave status and sold to
one Harvey Specter at the cost of trial proceedings and fines due to
Michael Ross’ transgressions against the criminal code.”

The judge looked
right at Harvey and said, “Are you sure about this, Mr.
Specter?”

Harvey stood up and
said, “Yes, Your Honor. My associate is a good kid at heart, he
just has poor judgment when it comes to who he should trust. As you
can see from the interrogation transcripts, Trevor Harris confessed
to leaving the drugs in Mike’s apartment without his knowledge
or participation. As well, Mike has been under my supervision for the
last six months and I believe that he was trying to better himself,
to break free of Mr. Harris’ influence. It’s just too bad
he hadn’t changed the locks on his apartment and prevented all
of this.”

Harvey’s dry
tone actually prompted a smile from the judge. “Indeed. Very
well, Mr. Specter. I presume you wish for him to be able to continue
work as your associate?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“There will be
limitations, no criminal cases, but I don’t see any reason not
to put Mr. Ross to work for you if he has the capability to do so.
This agreement is approved and finalized by this Court and the power
vested in me by the state of New York and the Empire. Once he’s
been fitted with a locator chip and registered properly, you can take
your slave home, Mr. Specter. And do try to keep the boy out of
trouble.”

“I will ma’am.
Thank you,” Harvey said, voice warm enough to prompt another
smile from the judge. He looked over at Mike and smiled briefly.

Dazed, Mike couldn’t
think of anything to say as the detective who’d brought him in
took him out of the courtroom. The actual chipping procedure only
took about a half-hour. They anesthetized the area between shoulder
blade and spine and then implanted the GPS tracker. When they pushed
him back into the hall, that detective waited for him outside and
guided him down the hall.

Harvey waited for
them outside of the building, on the courthouse steps. He immediately
wrapped his arms around Mike and demanded, “Are you okay?”

Mike buried his face
against Harvey’s neck and nodded, clinging to the other man as
he shook in reaction. He still couldn’t believe how it had
worked out. He wasn’t going to a hard labor camp, instead sold
to Harvey where he’d keep being a lawyer in all but name. He
silently thanked the Gods that he’d never really believed in as
he let Harvey’s warmth seep into him, only half-listening to
the conversation going on around him.

“…already
on his way to the camp, yeah,” caught Mike’s attention
and he straightened a little. Harvey wasn’t having that,
though, and pulled him in close again. Mike gave in without any fuss,
too glad to be where he was to really protest, but listened.

The two men shook
hands and then Harvey squeezed Mike tight for a few seconds before
letting him go. He kept an arm around Mike’s waist, though, and
said, “Come on, puppy. We have things to talk about at home.”

Mike nodded and
gratefully leaned on Harvey as they walked down the stone steps; he
hadn’t eaten since the morning before and was feeling shaky for
a variety of reasons. Ray waited with the car at the bottom of the
steps; he opened the door for them and Mike couldn't even summon the
energy to give him a smile as Harvey ushered him inside.

Harvey tugged Mike
into his arms again as soon as they were both seated and the door
closed, putting one of his arms over Mike's shoulder. He wanted to
ask about Trevor, but didn't dare. He wasn't even sure if he was
hoping that Trevor was going to a camp or not. There was no sense of
closure, as stupid as Mike thought that sounded. He couldn't even
punch Trevor in the face for what he'd done, losing the privilege of
revenge to the justice of the State and Empire.

“You okay?”
Harvey murmured against his ear.

Mike shook his head
and said honestly, “I don't know what I am.”

A different kind of
shock ran through him when Harvey kissed the top of his bare head.
“That's okay, too. It's going to take some time.”

Mike didn't care if
it was cowardly, he just pressed his face against Harvey's chest and
hid for the rest of the ride. He dozed, because it seemed like only
seconds later that the door clicked open and the noise jolted him
awake. Mike jumped, but didn't get far with Harvey's arm like lead
over his shoulder.

Harvey said quietly,
“It's okay, Mike, it's just Ray. We're home.”

Mike let out a shaky
breath and climbed out of the car after Harvey. Something, he
realized, that he'd be doing the rest of his life. He stopped short
in the garage as true understanding struck. He was a slave. He no
longer had control over his own life. Harvey could abuse him, rape
him, kill him and no one would think twice.

Harvey stopped and
looked back. “Mike?”

Mike met his gaze
and found a wealth of concern there, a lot more than Harvey had ever
let show before. “I'm your slave now.”

Harvey slowly walked
back to him, nodding. “That's right.”

“I'm, I'm not
free. I don't have my own life anymore.”

“I know.”

Loss staggered
through him and Mike dropped to his knees. The dull pain at the
contact didn't even come close to matching the emotions roiling
inside him.

Harvey crouched
beside him and gripped his shoulder. “Your life's going to be
different, Mike, but you're safe with me. I swear it. You will never
have any cause to fear me.”

Even though
logically he'd known that, the words soothed the fear that threatened
to overwhelm Mike. He let out a short, shaky breath and took the hand
that Harvey held out to him, letting the other man tug him upright
once more.

He didn't resist
when Harvey kept a hand on him. The irony of the situation didn't
fail him. Mike had longed for Harvey to take charge of him for
months, almost since the day they'd met. Now neither of them had a
choice in the matter.

* * * *

Harvey rarely said
anything like it, but in this case, Donna was right. The absolute
gut-wrenching pain on Mike's face when his situation had truly driven
home would've killed Harvey with guilt if he'd been in any way
responsible. As it was, he was already feeling somewhat guilty over
the relief that Mike was not just safe, but his. He made a
note to send Donna something expensive in the near future.

He brought Mike up
to the apartment and settled him on the sofa before going over to fix
him a stiff drink. The kid looked about ready to pass out and
definitely needed something to settle him down. Harvey sat beside him
and put the tumbler in Mike's hand. “Drink. Slowly.”

Mike took a big gulp
and then coughed and spluttered for a minute.

Harvey rolled his
eyes. “I said slowly. That's the good stuff.”

Mike wiped at watery
eyes and gasped, “Good stuff. Right.”

A reluctant grin
twitched at Harvey's mouth and he heard Donna in his head admonishing
him to be honest with the other man. As much as he just wanted to
move forward without some big, emotional talk, he knew clearing the
air between them would be the best strategy. All he needed six
months from now was for Mike to somehow find out about his plans to
make the younger man his, think the worst, and freak out.

Letting out a short,
sharp sigh, Harvey admitted, “I wanted you to be my slave. Not
like this, but I wanted you to be mine pretty much from the moment I
saw you.”

Mike's jaw dropped a
bit and the glass lowered.

Harvey patiently
reached over and tapped it upwards as he said, “I was actually
thinking of ways to, well, make you my slave when all this happened.
I had absolutely no part in it, but the timing was just... bizarre,
frankly.”

Mike swallowed
another gulp of the liquor, but this time his eyes only watered, he
didn't cough. He did clear his throat and say slowly, “I
think... I think the Gods were listening to us both, or trying to
make us listen to them and when we didn't, took matters into their
own hands.”

Harvey quirked an
eyebrow at him, surprised. “I didn't think you were that
devout.”

Mike shrugged a
shoulder and said, “I'm not, not really. But like you said, the
timing's bizarre. You start thinking of ways to enslave me and boom,
here I am. I know you're good, Harvey, but you're not that good.”

Harvey had tensed at
the word 'enslave,' but Mike's faint grin and easy words were enough
to relax him. “Okay, so. Rules. All the public ones apply,
naturally, but there are a few private ones, too.”

Mike's eyes widened
a bit and he nodded, drinking down the last of the whiskey.

“First, no one
touches you or tells you what to do except me, Donna, or Jessica. And
Jessica knows not to poach from me, so you won't have to worry about
her doing something you don't like. Louis can give you work, but
that's it,” Harvey said firmly. “I'll have a private chat
with Louis to impress upon him just how much I mean that.”

Mike let out a small
sigh and relaxed further. “Good.”

“Second, you
can not back talk me in public. Not because I care, but
because everyone else will. I know it's your first instinct, but
swallow it.”

Mike nodded, taking
the rule seriously.

“Third, I'm
for initiative in all areas so if you feel inspired to be a
little public in your displays of affection, go for it,” Harvey
teased to lighten things up a little.

A soft laugh escaped
Mike and he asked, “How affectionate are we talking?”

Harvey smirked. “Oh,
feel free to suck me off under the desk or a table any time the mood
takes you.”

Mike's eyes widened
again, further this time and he said, a little breathless, “Okay.
Good to know.”

“Last and most
important,” Harvey said, sobering a bit. “I won't punish
you arbitrarily, but if you fuck up, dishonor the firm, and break any
public or private rules, there will be punishment. It will
depend on the nature of the transgression, but I will spank, cane,
whip, or beat you as the situation warrants. Pearson Hardiman can not
in any way be compromised by a slave, no matter who that slave
belongs to. Punishment will be public and brutal in accordance with
company policy.”

Harvey knew that
Mike had read that clause in his contract, like every other
associate. On the chance that someone became a voluntary slave to
their significant other, it had to be present and fully understood
and agreed to before employment was engaged.

Mike nodded and said
quietly, “I know, but thanks for bringing it up. Um, what
about, accidental transgressions?”

“What, like
walking beside me instead of behind me or not doing what your told?”

“Right.”

Harvey wrapped his
hand around Mike's wrist and squeezed tight, but brief. “It
will depend on the circumstances. There's going to be a transition
period, Mike, and everyone at work will know that. Allowances will be
made for a while, but not forever. If it helps, I think you're going
to be so perfect as my slave. You're already so perfect for me in
every other way, Mike.”

Mike swallowed hard
and whispered, “Really? Because I always feel like I let you
down.”

Harvey restrained a
wince. That was totally on him. He'd been extra hard on Mike for the
last couple of months to try and keep him at bay while simultaneously
wanting to keep him close. Harvey pulled him in and wrapped him in
another hug and then tugged him onto his lap. He kissed Mike gently,
coaxing his mouth open and carefully devouring him for a long time.
When he pulled back, Mike leaned forward to continue kissing, his
eyes dazed with the pupils blown.

Harvey smiled and
kissed his temple, then murmured against his ear, “You almost
never let me down, Mike. I'm so proud of everything you've
accomplished.”

Mike gasped and
buried his face against Harvey's chest. He didn't speak or cry, but
Harvey felt him shake. He rubbed his hand slowly along Mike's back
and held him for several minutes until the shaking stopped.

“Come on.
Let's take a quick shower to wash the stink off you and then early to
bed,” Harvey ordered. “It's been a stressful week and we
could both use the sleep.”

Mike nodded and
slowly climbed off Harvey's lap. Once they were standing, Harvey put
his arm around Mike's waist and guided him into the bedroom, loving
how he leaned against him. It didn't take long to strip him of the
second-hand clothes Flack had given Mike.

Harvey pulled off
his own clothes as quickly as he could, tossing them at the closet
and rolling his eyes a little at Mike's faint grin. “Shut up.”

Mike grinned
outright at that. “I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't
have to,” Harvey said, his mood rising in response to Mike's.
“Bathroom's through there.”

Harvey was just
shoving down his pants and boxers when he heard Mike exclaim, “This
isn't a bathroom, Harvey, it's an altar to Dionysus!”

Chuckling, Harvey
pulled off his socks and walked into the bathroom to find Mike gaping
at his surroundings. It was a little on the ostentatious side, Harvey
could admit. The bathroom took up half-again as much space as the
bedroom with a sunken tub, separate shower, tiled floors and a double
sink. “Are you complaining?”

Mike smiled broadly
at him and said, “Complain that my new bathroom is bigger than
my last kitchen? No, no I'm not.”

Harvey grinned and
walked to the tub, starting the water and bending to flick the plug
into place. “I don't use the tub as often as I should.”

“I would live
in it, if I could,” Mike said, stepping beside him.

When Harvey
straightened up, Mike was just right there, in his space, and
suddenly all the want he'd had for the younger man for almost a year
slammed into him. Mike's eyes widened, apparently sensing the change,
or maybe Harvey wasn't nearly as subtle as he liked to think and it
was as obvious as the tub. He let out a slow, shaky breath and said,
“Nothing's going to happen tonight, Mike. We're both riding
fumes and it's a very bad idea to make umph!”

Mike threw his arms
around Harvey's neck and kissed him, interrupting the words very
efficiently. The kiss was messy, graceless, and as heartfelt as Mike
himself. Harvey groaned and wrapped his arms around Mike, deepening
the kiss and backing Mike up against the nearest wall. Mike melted
against him, hitching a leg around his waist and digging his fingers
into Harvey's shoulders.

Harvey ground down
against him, already most of the way to being hard, and panted into
his mouth. Mike was his now.
He could do this and more. This was perfect, though, and he bit
Mike's lower lip before shifting to his throat and marking him with
another bite there and sucking a hickey into existence.

Mike cried out and
jerked up against him, shuddering violently as he came and
splattering them both with it. His head tilted to the side, exposing
his throat even more. “Oh gods, oh Harvey.”

Harvey thrust a few
more times against Mike's softening dick before coming, feeling like
he was about to have a heart attack, it beat so hard against his
chest. Mike held him up, an arm snaking around Harvey's waist to
support him through the aftershocks and kissing him gently, little
kisses against his face and temple. Harvey needed it. He couldn't
remember the last time he came that hard and rested there until his
breathing slowed down.

And then he felt hot
water against his feet. Harvey cursed and looked over to find the tub
had overflowed. He rushed over to it and turns off the faucet,
unplugging it to lower the water while Mike laughed.

* * * *

They did actually
use the tub, but not until cleaning up the pulled of water all around
it. Mike snickered randomly through the entire bath, remembering the
startled expression on Harvey's face when he'd realized what had
happened.

It was definitely an
experience, being bathed. Harvey insisted on washing every inch of
him with his hands and a facecloth. Mike squirmed and shivered as
those too-clever fingers slid around his dick and gently breached his
ass just long enough to get him going again. He couldn't get enough
of the kissing and Harvey seemed to feel the same way. They spent an
hour in the tub, at least, and Harvey had pulled another orgasm out
of him by the end of it, just with his hands.

Not that Mike was
complaining, really, but it made him even more useless. Exhaustion
dogged him even harder after that and he kept yawning, lulled by the
hot water, Harvey's slow, stroking hands, and the two orgasms.
Between one blink and the next, he was out of the tub and sitting on
the toilet while Harvey dried him off with a fluffy blue towel. His
nails scratched through the material while rubbing Mike's hair dry
and the scalp massage made him drift away again.

Next he knew, Mike
found himself in the ginormous bed that dominated Harvey's bedroom.
It was just as sinfully comfortable as it looked and he stretched
with a groan.

“God, your
gorgeous.”

Mike twisted towards
the voice and found Harvey standing beside the bed, staring at him.
He was dressed in boxers now, but that was it. His hair was messy and
looked damp still. Mike smiled and said lightly, “You're
delusional.”

Harvey frowned and
climbed onto the bed, slipping under the covers and settling up
behind him. Pulling the blankets back over them, he wrapped his arms
around Mike and said, “We're going to work on that self-esteem
problem you've got.”

“I don't have
any...”

Harvey's hand
covered his mouth, blocking his words. Mike got the idea and stopped
talking. Harvey kissed the back of his head and repeated, “You're
gorgeous. And smart, funny, and perfect for me.”

Mike blushed at the
string of compliments and clamped down on the instinct to spout a
denial. Maybe he did have some issues. “Harvey, did you talk to
my grandmother?”

“This morning.
She knows what happened and she knows you're safe with me,”
Harvey promised.

Mike hesitated, but
asked softly, “Am I?”

Harvey hugged him
tight and answered, quiet bur firm, “Always.”

Something deep
inside relaxed. This moment, being held by Harvey and knowing that no
one could take him away, filled the hole in his heart that had been
empty since his parents' deaths. Mike sighed deeply as contentment
rolled through him.

“Get some
sleep, Mike,” Harvey murmured.

Mike yawned again
and nodded. “Night, Master.”

He heard Harvey's
breath hitch at the word and felt the arms tighten briefly around
him.